


Resurrection

by razberriboi



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse Aftermath, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Dream Smp, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, No Romance, Protective Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Twins, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, descriptions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28627893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razberriboi/pseuds/razberriboi
Summary: Wilbur gets resurrected and returns with all of Ghostbur and Vilbur’s memories as well. Cue Wilbur who will go to the ends of the Earth to protect and defend his family, especially because he knows what they’ve been through. SBI-centric, Tommy and Wilbur focus. Angst and healing, the therapy arc they need.Note: In this, Philza is the father of Technoblade, Wilbur, and Tommy. Techbur twins are real, but Technoblade is adopted.NO SHIPPING OR NSFW
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, SBI - Relationship, Sleepy Bois Inc - Relationship, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 23
Kudos: 301





	1. Chapter 1

The ruins of L’manberg are desolate, with thinning air and a pungent, eternal smell of something burning. Even at night, no mobs dare wander in the sights of the once lively nation. Ghostbur stops still underneath the dimming lanterns, his eyes shining as he watches them flicker. “They look like fireflies”, he notes, as he turns his attention back to Phil, who has gone steps ahead of him, moving through the rubble. Ghostbur watches Phil, unblinking, until he hears the whoosh of the fires above him fully extinguishing, and hurries to follow him.  


“Phil, the fireflies are gone”, Ghostbur mentions as he clutches the side of the cliff they’d been climbing across. Waiting for a response, he glues his eyes to his feet as he takes small steps on the narrow edge, flinching at each rock echoing as it ricochets down the bedrock chasm. He wants to shut his eyes and wall himself in, but hears Phil’s footsteps at the other side, and so his hands fall flat against the cliffside, with his sweater snagging on the rocks as he takes bigger steps. If he were to fall, he’d hope the wall would catch him.  


He reaches Phil, who sits in the middle of a, somehow still somewhat preserved area, that vaguely resembles a room. He sees scratches crawling the walls, but can’t seem to decipher what they mean or why they’re there. He places his hand over them, closing his eyes, brushing across the ragged indents, as his fingers seem to mirror perfectly the patterns in the wall. He takes a step back, shaking his head as he rubs his eyes, still not knowing what the scratches mean.  


Ghostbur turns his attention back to Phil, who is sharpening his sword with a rock he pried free from the wall. The blue shimmer of the sword makes him smile. He wants some blue. He misses his blue. He doesn’t know where it went.  


“Phil, do you know where my blue is?”  


“We used the last of it on the sword, Ghostbur. I’ve told you this, do you not remember?”  


“Oh. Why can’t we have more?”  


“I’m sure you’ll have more than enough in no time, Ghostbur. Just wait.”  


And so Ghostbur sits against the wall, his hands tracing the scratches in the wall as if they have a mind of their own, watching Phil sharpening the sword as it grows a brighter blue.  


\---  


“Okay, Ghostbur, I’m ready”, Phil announces as he nudges Ghostbur on the shoulder. Ghostbur, blinking away the sleep from his eyes, looks up at Phil.  


“For what, Phil?”  


“You’re going to be resurrected, Ghostbur. Do you still want to do this?” Ghosbur looks out to the crater in front of them, squinting at the horizon that seems to be in pieces too.  


“Yes. Yes, I have to”, Ghostbur mumbles as he rushes up past Phil, grabbing the glowing sword from the other side of the room and stumbling with its weight. Calloused hands grab the handle with him, lifting up the sword between them. Bright eyes look up to Phil, not knowing what they’re pleading for, but pleading nonetheless. The scratches in the walls seem to make out words and Ghostbur tries to reach out to them but can’t seem to move, stuck in a blue haze that the sword emits. He tries to reach out to them, he wants to read them, he does, someone must be telling him something. As an excruciatingly bright pain fills him and the static in his head drowns out the words he sees in the walls, he falls to the ground.  
He jolts open his eyes and the static in his head has not lessened. He can make out words in the white noise that begin to yell at him, clamping his ears shut as he slumps against himself, his knees pulling to his chest, a small void next to an even greater one.

“Let's be the bad guys, Tommy”  
“Ghostbur, I can’t take it here, I really can’t.”  
“I sowed the seeds of peace yet I’m the one who paid for war”  
“Why is he doing this to me, Ghostbur? Why me? Why can’t I just live?”  
“Today he showed up again. When no one else does. Maybe he cares about me, Ghostbur.”  
“If I can’t have L’manberg, no one, no one can have L’manberg”  
“Independence or death.”  
“Ghostbur, Ghostbur, I don’t need more blue. I don’t feel anything anymore, Ghostbur.”

He finds the sword that laid recklessly on the ground, pushing the other man in the room with him against the wall, holding him at the edge of the sword. His hands shake on the hilt, mumbling a name under his breath as the noises in his head speak clearer and clearer to him.  
“You left us behind, you left HIM behind.”  


“...Wilbur?” Phil’s eyes widen as his palms press against the flat edge of the sword. Attempting to wrangle them out of the restraint, Wilbur pushes harder on the sword, trapping both Phil’s hands and body under the sword. He remained fixed between the sword and wall, watching as Wilbur continually shook his head and closed his eyes tighter.  


“Why did you kill me, Phil? The...the old me”, Wilbur whispered, staring at Phil, his eyes searching back and forth for some justification.  


“You asked me to kill you, you beg-”  


“I KNOW I ASKED you to kill me. I know. Why did you do it. Why did you, why did you LISTEN to me?”  


“You’re my son. You knew be-”  


“I am NOT YOUR SON. Dream KNEW, he KNEW if I was gone, he could-You aren’t a father. You-” Wilbur falters as he lessens his push on the sword, letting it clatter on the ground. He paces back, running his hands through his hair, rubbing his hands up and down his face as he looks again at the crater in front of them. Phil stands in stunned silence, remaining pressed against the wall, as if an invisible sword remained restraining him.  


“No. No, no. No, you are our father. You’re supposed to be. And you should have known that someone needed to protect him, and you let him be defenseless. You abandoned him and you LET ME ABANDON HIM TOO. You let me leave him, I-I practically raised him and he got you when I left? How could that be good-. Why-”  


“Wilbur you begged me to kill you. You wanted to leave.”  


“That doesn’t mean it’s OKAY! That doesn’t mean you should’ve DONE IT! Tommy needed someone, th-the-the reason he-. If you could be a good father to Technoblade, you could have been a good father to us too. You know that, right? Please tell me you know that. Or is it better that you don’t? Is it less painful to know you didn’t realize-No. NO. No. Where’s Tommy? Where’s Tommy? Where is he?” Wilbur’s eyes widened, holding his shaking hands as he came to a slow in front of Phil.  


“I...I don’t know, Wilbur.”  


“Of course you don’t know”, Wilbur mumbles, bitterness lacing his tongue, “Must be something about the color green.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur makes his way to Tommy's base from the ruins of L'Manberg, looking to find Tommy.

Wilbur didn’t really know what was going on. He could feel his legs moving, as if on a familiar path, pounding against the L’manberg wreckage, he could feel cold air passing through his hands. It was a weird feeling, his heavy legs keeping him stuck to the ground while his hands seemed to cut through himself. He knew he was real, he did, he knew, on some level, that he was back. He didn’t particularly know who “he” was, however. With his legs trailing after his hands, he shook his head. Despite heavy legs, his hands seemed to pass through the wind, pushing him forward.

Wilbur didn’t know what to do about Phil. He left him in the middle of a room that seemed to be worse off than when they started. He couldn’t remember what he had done after yelling at Phil, but it wasn’t important. He was making his way to Tommy. Tommy, his brother. Tommy, who deserved better. Tommy, who was left alone. Tommy. Tommy was still alone. He had to keep that in his mind, he couldn’t forget. There were a lot of memories floating around in his head, and he found himself unable to focus on anything with the overload of information. Each second, another scene would play in his head. Each second, his attention was forced onto another thing, event, memory, and he couldn’t seem to blink away the blurry ground in front of him. His ear splitting headache had grown to a loud hum that seemed to exist outside of his body. The thick air was almost a refreshing change of pace after moving out of the L’manberg air. The air was colder around him, though. He didn’t mind.

“...Tommy..?” Wilbur croaked as he peered past the door in a now dirt structure. With no response, he walked in hesitantly, looking around, with empty furnaces and full up chests. It didn’t look lived in, but he hoped it was. He didn’t know where Tommy went after the explosions, he didn’t know where Dream was, he didn’t know what was happening, really. Tommy didn’t seem to be in his home. Was he still in exile? Certainly not, he knew Tommy hated it there. He knew, but he also knew Tommy was attached to it. Wilbur stumbled through the home, resting against a jukebox in the back room. Maybe he could make sense of the humming in his ears if he was near the jukebox. Maybe. He hoped. 

Tommy still had a jukebox in this home, maybe it wasn’t abandoned. He could be on an adventure, he could be walking the prime path, perhaps. Him not being here was fine, Wilbur told himself. He closed his eyes as he leaned against the jukebox, desperately wishing for some familiar tune to play. Some evidence, some symbol of hope. He began to softly hum rhythms of the music discs that were on constant loop during exile. He laughed quietly to himself, as if he could summon Tommy with the noise.

\---

“Ghostbur, I know we’re Lads on Tour, and I’m happy you’re happy, but I don’t feel happy. Shouldn’t I feel happy? I want to.”

“Oh! Maybe some blue can help, here! Let’s keep being Lads on Tour until you’re happy, Tommy! Let’s make it something happy! Lads on Tour! Lads on Tour, come on! Say it with me! Lads on Tour! It’s a nice break, isn’t it?”

“It is, Ghostbur. A break, sure. Yeah. Yeah, it’s just a break. It’s just a break”

“Hello Tommy! I just came from L’Manberg! What would you like to do today?”

“L’Manberg...How is it? How’s everyone there?”  
“It looks so nice! I’ve been building with people, and I even started a library! I told you about the library, didn’t I?”

“You’re building there? Aren’t you building with me too?”

“I am, Tommy! I quite like Logsteadshire, don’t you?”  
“If we’re...Lads on Tour, why are you building a permanent place? Tents are better. It’s temporary.”  
“It’s like how people have different homes! We can live here and L’Manberg!”

“This isn’t my home, Ghostbur. I don’t want to be here. I don’t, I can’t live in L’Manberg, I’m. I’m. Uh,”

“Why can’t you come with me to L’Manberg, Tommy?”

“I’m...not...I don’t, I can’t, uhm”

“Take some blue first, here, wait. I think Logsteadshire is better anyway! You’re here!”

“Everyone else is in L’Manberg, Ghostbur.”

“Yeah, sure! But you’re here! They’re missing out! Have they seen the Prime Log?”

“Hah. I guess they haven’t. Maybe they’ll visit because of it.”

“You know what they say about Lads on Tour, don’t you Tommy?”

“No, what do they say?”

“That we’re the Lads on Tour! Everybody wants to be us!”

“I don’t know if I want to be this, Ghostbur. No one wants to be us, no one visits. No one’s taking fucking notes, no one’s-Ghostbur, no one wants to fucking be me. No one wants to be fucking, fucking exiled by their friends, cut off from everything they worked for.”

“...Exiled? We’re just on vacation, Tommy!”

“Ghostbur, you are not me. You aren’t exiled, you’re just here for I don’t fucking know what! Why are you here? Why are you reminding me-Why are you just taunting me? I know I can’t go back, so why do you have to pretend you’re treated the same as me when you can fucking have a life there? In L’Manberg, you have a life. You don’t need to make a life here. What’s keeping you here?”

“...”

“God, I don’t want to be here. I just-I just want to be able to do what you can, Ghostbur.”

“What if I bring things to you here?”

“No, I’m not-This is temporary. If I bring my things here, that’s giving up. There’s nothing for me here, but I don’t think there’s anything for me there, anymore. At least, people don’t seem to think so, and if they don’t need me, I shouldn’t need them, right?”

“It’s not a bad thing to have friends! I love friends! They’re fun! I enjoy being with friends. It’s why I like being with you, Tommy! Lads on Tour!”

“Hm. Lads on Tour, okay, Ghostbur. Maybe others can join us, other friends, right?”

“Of course! Friends are fun, they make us happy! Should we go find some friends, Tommy? Add more Lads on Tour to the tour!”

“Go ahead, Ghostbur, I don’t know if I’m ready to-Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Okay Tommy! Have some blue until I’m back! I’m going to go search for some friends. I’ll be back with them!”

\---

Wilbur opened his eyes, a strain in his shoulders from the hunched position he was in next to the jukebox. It was silent. And it was silent outside, as well. If Tommy wasn’t here, he couldn’t be anywhere else, Wilbur was sure of it. Tommy was resilient, and would keep coming back to what reminds him of himself, of his home. And this small dirt shack was it. He could see something comforting about building, closed in by natural terrain. Tommy’s home reminded Wilbur of Pogtopia and he wondered if it reminded Tommy too. There’s something comforting about thinking about Pogtopia, it was the safest Wilbur had ever felt, the most protected and secured he’d ever been, despite their exile. Tommy certainly didn’t feel that way about Logsteadshire, Logsteadshite, more like. 

It’s funny, Wilbur thinks, that Tommy made a home for himself in the DreamSMP itself, and when he was exiled, it seemed to follow him, in the worst way possible. Wilbur didn’t really understand how he was able to stay in the DreamSMP, after everything. Even Wilbur himself was uncomfortable with the atmosphere, like he could see a bright green bastard at every turn. But he could also see a blond, blue eyed kid wearing a red and white shirt too. He hoped. Tommy was resilient, he knew. Tommy wouldn’t break. The chests were full and a jukebox was still in the backroom. Tommy still existed here, Tommy still existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support! It's pretty cool to see that so many people read the first chapter in less than 24 hours. Honestly, this was just one idea I had because I really want protective!Wilbur, but I'm having a fun time writing, and I hope people like this too! I'm gonna try to have the next chapter up soon, and it's where Tommy and Wilbur meet for the first time after Wilbur's resurrection!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Wilbur meet at Tommy's home. Sibling angst and comfort chapter incoming.  
> (There is a reference to Dream manipulating/abusing Tommy, and a bit of Tommy's inner monologue about it, just as a content warning!)

A loud rustling was coming from the front room, the creaks of chests being obsessively opened and rambling footsteps dancing in a well practiced harmony. Dreary eyes blinked the sleep away as Wilbur shifted up against the wall and stretched his legs out in front of him. It was still dark outside, peering stars coming through the door window. There was a rough thump, immediately Wilbur’s legs straightening as he jumped up. Opening the door, he could see clearly a small sniffling boy, with windy hair and wrinkled clothes, hunched over an ender chest, as if he were shutting it closed under his weight. Before Wilbur could speak, the boy spun on his heels, faltering. 

Tommy didn’t move. He leaned against the ender chest, crossing his leg over in front of him, ready to turn at another moment’s notice. He made no move to wipe his teary eyes, keeping his hands pressed on the ender chest. Softly, under his breath, Tommy mumbled.

“You’re not real. I’m just tired, you’re not real.”

Wilbur stepped forward, the left half of his body illuminating in the moonlight. He noticed the torn shoes and hastily sewed clothing Tommy adorned. He noticed the scrapes on Tommy’s hands and the way his weight laid on his right side. He knew of the invisible scars, as well. Wilbur’s shoulders dropped, the room’s distance between them feeling like it was growing greater as he took another step forward. 

“...Tommy?”

Tommy’s eyes glazed, his lips parting as he took a sharp breath inward. His body seemed to stiffen before crumbling completely. He threw himself into Wilbur, letting himself be caught entirely, deep, heaving sobs wrecking him as two arms wrapped around him, gently sinking them to the grass floor. Silent wails spiraled in the air around them as Tommy found himself curling into arms that held him tighter with each passing second. His own arms were limp, utterly reliant on the arms around him to hold him up. Soft pleas were repeated until his eyes went dry.

“Wilbur, Wilbur, please don’t go away, please.”

Wilbur remained with Tommy, refusing to let go, even till after the boy fell asleep in his arms. He held him close, wanting to protect him, to let him know he was safe, even if unconsciously in his dreams. Wilbur would not leave Tommy’s side.

A short while after the sun began to shine through the windows, the boy in Wilbur’s arms began to shuffle, blinking as he stared into the bright eyes of his brother. In this moment, Wilbur could take in the wrinkles and eyebags and drained pale skin and hollow eyes and furrowed eyebrows. He grew up too fast, he thought. A hushed name came from the boy as he sat up slightly.

“Wilbur?”

Wilbur took a breath before speaking.

“Tommy?”

Tommy scrambled up, pushing Wilbur’s off as he held his arms in front of him, his palms facing outwards, shaking slightly. Closing his eyes and quickly rubbing his eyes before putting them back in front of him, his voice cracked, 

“No, you’re not real. You’r-you’re-you’re dead. You’re dead. You’re gone. You aren’t fucking real. I’m hallucinating!” Tommy flung up his arms and smiled widely, spinning as he continued exclaiming loudly, “I’m fucking hallucinating! That’s what they say, right, after 72 hours, you hallucinate, right! Makes sense! Got what was coming to me! Shit! This is just great. Got my dead fucking brother right in front of me. Not Ghostbur, oh-ho-ho! Not Ghostbur, my fucking dead dead brother. I’m going crazy aren’t I?” Tommy laughed to himself, swinging his arms as he pranced around the room. Wilbur watched with concern, his eyes following as his brother was practically climbing up the walls. He grabbed Tommy’s sleeve as he passed by him, grabbing his shoulders, looking him in the eyes.

“Tommy, I’m real. This is real. I was-I was resurrected. I had to come back.”

Tommy faltered, his arms falling to his sides, as he listened to Wilbur’s words. A look of confusion crossed his face, and Wilbur spoke again, softly, but directly.

“I’m back, Tommy.”

“You actually did it?” Tommy spoke to himself as he stumbled backwards, away from Wilbur.

“I needed to come back. I don’t think the blue was doing enough for everybody.” Wilbur chuckled, with a thin smile, letting go of Tommy’s shoulders.

“Tell me something only Wilbur would know. So I know you’re real.”

“I came back...with all of my memories. Including Ghostbur’s-”

Tommy’s face fell instantly. 

“What? What did you say?”

“I have Ghostbur’s memories, Tommy,” Wilbur spoke gently. “Do you want me to say?”

“No, no-no. No you’re not supposed to know. I-I told you because you would forget. Because no one would know.” Tommy’s eyes widened as his hands, once again, began to shake. Wilbur, grabbing his hands in his, held them still.

“Hey, you’re okay. I’m here for you. It’s okay, you’re okay. You are not going back there, near there, anytime soon. Not when I have anything to do with it. You’re safe.” Tommy didn’t answer, just looking Wilbur in the eyes. They stood there, unmoving, holding their breath, until Tommy’s hands stopped shaking on their own. 

“I-I...I don’t want to-”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Wilbur said assuredly, nodding slightly, “You’re okay.” Tommy stepped into a hug, wrapping his arms around Wilbur as he let the tension melt, allowing his breaths to slow.

\---

They sat in the backroom together, Wilbur leaning against the jukebox, with Tommy leaning against him. They weren’t listening to anything, but Wilbur was soothing the ringing in his ears and Tommy was listening to Wilbur’s soft inhales and exhales, mirroring them. They had been sitting there for a while, just next to each other, and the day was growing darker. Tommy nestled closer into Wilbur’s side as Wilbur stretched his arms up, yawning.

“Don’t fall asleep Wilbur, if-if you do I’ll fall asleep too.”

Shifting to face Tommy, whose blinks were slow, Wilbur spoke, “I won’t, Tommy. But,” he paused before speaking again, “but you said you hadn’t slept for 72 hours...You need to get rest. I’ll be here.”

“No. Because if I fall asleep, you can fall asleep, and-and then. Then we aren’t-We just have to keep each other up, okay?”

“Hey, it’s okay. But listen, you need to make sure you rest. I’m going to make sure you rest.”

“No! I can’t go to bed! If I sleep-” Tommy spit out, standing up from Wilbur’s side, “if I sleep, time, time goes by faster. It means, it means that the next day comes faster, it means I’m one day closer to the next morning and the next explosion I’ll hear and the next time I’ll fall, the next time I’ll see him, the next miserable fucking day-Time is slower when I’m awake. I-I have more control. I can hold him off that way. I can hold him off that way, I can-”

“Tommy, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Listen, I’m here. He isn’t coming anywhere near you, okay? And we aren’t going anywhere near him. I’ve got you, okay? You need some real sleep.”  
“No, Wilbur, I need to stay up, if I stay up, I’m prepared. I get more time without-without anything happening.”

“You need to give your mind a break. It’s working overtime. Relax, okay? I got you, I promise.”

“You...you know what he did to me, Wilbur. You-”

“I do know, Tommy. I do. You’re going to be safe. It’s why I’m here. Tomorrow morning, we can face the day together, but you need rest. You aren’t alone. You won’t be alone when the sun rises. Listen-that highlighter fuck isn’t coming anywhere near you. Sleep.”

Tommy was still standing, his eyes wide, locked with Wilbur’s. He crawled back onto the ground, resting his back against Wilbur’s, as he let rest his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. Wilbur would rub circles on Tommy’s shoulder, softly humming along with the silent jukebox, keeping a constant rhythm. Wilbur would be there, right next to his side, still rubbing circles on his shoulder, still humming along, even if Tommy were to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excited to see what Wilbur's character is going to be like after the resurrection! I'm very much hoping he remembers Ghostbur's memories and we get protective!Wilbur. Because I care a lot about keeping canon in mind, depending on what we get from the stream, I'll implement it into this fic and the direction of this fic! But you can pry protective big brother Wilbur from my cold, dead, hands.

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i also do prompts :) u can comment them for requests or dm them my twitter is @razberriboi !


End file.
